Silent Retreat
by Didi
Summary: Jean-Paul deals with Wolverine's return. Wolverine deals with Jean-Paul's reaction. Jubilee & Northstar


**Silent Retreat**

By Didi

**Disclaimer:**  Marvel owns all rights to the characters that are recognized in this story.  I'm not making any profits from this story, though I really could use the extra money. 

**Timeline:**  The seventh in the "Silence" series.  Please read the others for the full background on the Northstar & Jubilee friendship I've been slowly developing here.  If you don't feel like it, that's okay too.  Hopefully I've written this so that it can stand on its own without any back story to it. 

**Ratings:**  PG-13, as always. 

**Summary:**  Jean-Paul deals with Wolverine's return.  Wolverine deals with Jean-Paul's reaction. 

**Author's Note:**  Oh come on, you knew that this was coming.  How can I possibly write a Jubilee fan fiction without allowing her favorite hairy ape to show up?  [I have to say that I've read so many Wolverine/Jubilee fan fictions that it was actually easier not to write about them.]  It was only a matter of time before it happens.  Promise, nothing extreme will happen.  And I do have another take on Logan's reaction to things.  On other good news, this kind of brings this story to a full circle of sort.  Hope you've all enjoy this as much as I've enjoy writing it. 

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            The high pitched squeal of delight announced the arrival of an event that Jean-Paul Beaubier had secretly been dreading for days now.  With a morbid sense of curiously, he stood from the heavy leather armchair where he had been hiding for the past two hours, behind several rolls of books in the upstairs library, and made his way to the gleaming floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the pristine grounds of the Xavier Institution of Higher Learning.  From here, high above the horseshoe driveway, the man more known as Alpha Flight's Northstar than anything else had an unobstructed view of the reunion that was happening before the open front doors of the school. 

            The Harley Davidson motorcycle sitting on the graveled road, kicked into a standing position, was a gleaming chromium eyesore to Art Nouveau styled Jean-Paul, not to mention a dangerous transportation tool, but the man standing next to it was a bigger annoyance to the observing new X-Man.  Logan, more popularly known among friends and enemies as Wolverine, was slinging a beaten duffle over one shoulder with his left arm and catching the pixie of a girl that had came flying out the front door with his right.  It was the joyous of reunions as reflected upon the wide smiles on both their faces.  For a man that lived with death and evil, Logan never smiled the way he does as when under the bright-eyed gaze of his _lil__' darlin'_.

            From the way Jubilee's mouth was rapidly moving, she was already attempting to catch her old companion up on every tiny event that's happened on the school grounds since his absence to help the subdivision team in Louisiana.  A few months ago, Jean-Paul may have wondered why the irascible Logan was allowing the child to chew his ear off about such trivial things, but that was then… and this is now. 

            His hand gripped the sill of the window as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the windowpane, trying to catch a final glimpse of the animated child before her 'Wolvie' took her into the house with him, arm still wrapped protectively around her thin shoulders.  Stomach clinched painfully, he leaned back and sat down heavily in the near-by chair.  He hadn't felt anything like this since the first time they had to take Jean-Marie away due to her agitation and instability, and there had been nothing he could do to stop it.  But that was hardly what's happening here.  Jubilee was _not_ his sister, she was _not_ completely unstable and a danger to herself as well as others, she was _not_ being taken away from him…

            But she was.  Not that he ever thought that she was his to begin with…

            Jean-Paul called himself ten times the fool to be acting this irrationally over… something he wasn't even sure was… Oh hell, he couldn't even identify, much less name, whatever it is that is bothering him.  And _that_ in itself was an irritation. 

            When, not to mention how, did the little _Enfant_ worm her way into his world of existence while he wasn't looking?  And he was honest enough with himself to admit that she had made a place next to the Jean-Marie in his list of priorities in life.  It had been a silent move, one that really didn't register in his thoughts until the news of Logan's return had illicit an excitement of chatter from Jubilation that made watching 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail,' a movie _she_ had chosen, impossible.  It hadn't really hit him just how much such a usually small and insignificant even would affect him until the three days later when Jubilee had asked him about planning a surprise for her 'Wolvie.' 

            _Her_ Wolvie. 

            Lord, it was like being touched by a teaser gun.  _Her_ Wolverine was coming home.  The one person in this world that she relied upon, admired, protected and loved was returning; she was barely able to suppress the glee of excitement in her eyes, not that she tried very hard.  The child wore her heart on her sleeve, and every by-passer was welcome a blessed view of it.  She wasn't going to need to forever look for a movie-watching buddy, pulling him away from his corporate responsibilities.  She wasn't going to nag him into taking her on midnight rides for no reason.  Or ice cream runs.  Or one in the morning cravings for the special fudge made only in a shop six hours away in Maine.  Or come bounding into his room for no other reason than to smile and say hi before bounding out again in the same energetic enthusiasm for life that left him breathless.  There would no need for her to seek him out any longer.  Her 'Wolvie' had come home at last.

            "Hiding?" came the question that was merged with a lilting accent that was so unbelievably attractive on that whiskey warm baritone voice. 

            "In plain view?  Hardly," he responded without thought. 

            Light steps touched the ground, the side of a shelf, a chair before stopping softly on the table top.  Bright yellow orbs of laughter twinkled at Jean-Paul.  "You know, _mein__ freund_, it is perfectly all right to feel something besides indifference around here." 

            "I don't know what you are…"

            Lips that should be sarcastic by nature turned upward in giddy amusement.  "Our Jubilee has a big heart.  It allows for many in her life."

            There were times when Jean-Paul hated, absolutely _freaking_ hated, that Kurt Wagner was so unbelievably insightful.  For a man that resembled the devil himself, being his father and all, the man codenamed Nightcrawler had the unfortunate gift of a saint's heart.  It made Kurt annoying correct all the time and for all the right reasons.  And while usually Jean-Paul appreciated the man's forthright honesty, right now was just _not_ one of those times.  "I'm sure there was a point in there I was suppose to get."

            Clearly not offended by his teammate's sourly attitude, Kurt sat down on the table and crossed his arms.  "The little _mädchen_ plans to have a little welcome home gathering at Harry's later tonight for Logan.  She would be simply delighted to have all in attendance.  I have been assigned the role of the messenger of sorts as she is busy with the details of the planning process."

            Ignoring the fact that he believed he would become physically ill if he were to have to sit through so much as five minutes of watching Jubilee fawn over her beloved Wolverine, "I am _très_ _occup_ tonight."

            "It would only be but an hour," Kurt replied gently, some of that amusement fading from his strangely attractive devil's eyes.

            It would be one hour too long for Jean-Paul's peace of mind.  He did not want to watch the child delight in very presence of her pseudo father.  He did not want to know that another person can put that bright, angelic smile upon her face.  He did not want to hear her laugh at simply nothing at all.  He _did not_ want to examine his inability to admit to the fact that he would _miss_ the little brat when she no longer needed his company.  "I have holdings to see to, companies to run, financial papers to read, grammatically-troubled essays to grade, and an assortment of other matters that would take precedence over this impromptu gathering." 

            "The little one will be greatly disappointed," Kurt pointed out quietly.

            Something flicked in Jean-Paul's icy blue eyes.  "She will hardly notice one person more or less."

            For a moment, Kurt looked as if he was about to argue the point.  But upon reflection, he chose to stay silent.  It was hardly his place to explain to the Canadian the position upon which he has placed himself in.  "If it brings you comfort to believe that, so be it," and disappeared in a puff of smoke and the smell of sulfur and brimstone. 

            Clinching his teeth against voicing the bitterly biting remark to the now empty room, Jean-Paul forced himself to stay calm.  Kurt Wagner's increasing interference in his life was becoming an annoyance that he wished he didn't have to deal with.  And it certainly didn't help that the man was so damn close to the truth all the time. 

            With thoughts of avoiding the heartwarming reunion that was undoubtedly taking place one floor down, Jean-Paul made his way to his room with every intention of staying there for the rest of the evening, bypassing dinner as well.  He did not want to run into any of the happy people downstairs on their way out while he was feeling less than jolly… not that anyone that knew him would ever hope to describe him as jolly. 

            Several hours and cups of coffee later-he silently thank Paige Guthrie for the personalized coffee maker in his room-Jean-Paul was becoming thoroughly sick of his own company and was only halfway through his backlog of financial papers that his accountants have been hounding him about.  The scolding phone call last week had bordered subordination; if not for their brilliance, Jean-Paul would have fired the lot of them by now.  The silence in the mansion was beginning to hack mightily away at his nerves.  More irritably was the fact that 'before' the little _enfant_ came into his life, he enjoyed these moments of solitude and peace. 

            As he moved onto the mountain of essays that he was sure was likely to produce headaches, an obnoxiously sharp and insistent knocking startled him into spilling coffee down his shirt front.  Cursing in his native tongue, he yanked open the door fully intending on giving whoever it was on the other side a piece of his anger. 

            He was rather startled to find _her_ on the other side. 

            "Hi!" wiggling electric-blue tipped fingers at him cheerfully as she pushed her way in.  She was never one to stand upon ceremony.  Glancing around the room, Jubilee gave him a superior look of exasperation, a feat he hadn't thought could be accomplished, before raking him with her eyes.  "Need a bib there, JP?" 

            "It's Jean-Paul," he replied sharply before yanking the sticky shirt off.

            Jubilee gave a whistle of appreciation and grinned in response to his dry look of annoyance.  She was one of the few that got away with teasing him on a regular basis and took full advantage of it.  There have been those known to comment and even question that strangeness but the more interesting question was: why he put up with it.  "Who knew you've got such great pecks under all that…"

            "Zip it, _Enfant,_" and tossed the soiled shirt into the hamper next to the private bathroom door.  "What are you doing here?" opening a drawer to find a clean shirt. 

            Reaching over, she pulled him back to stand upon her tiptoes and peered into the drawer.  Choosing a pale blue pull over in soft Egyptian cotton, she held it out to him.  "I came back to see what was taking you so long.  Oh, and your phone is off."

            Eyeing her carefully as he pulled on the shirt, unconsciously one of his favorites subsequent to an off-chance comment by Bobby and Jubilee one sunny afternoon by the lake about the way the color brings out his eyes, "I had things to take care of." 

            Nodding because she was use to his having 'things to take care of,' she hopped onto his bed and bounced there for a moment.  "So how much longer are you going to be?" she asked, crossing her legs and leaning back onto her arms as if to get comfortable for the wait.

            "A while," he answered crossing his arms and leaning back on the drawer to regard her with a curious look.  "Why?"

            "I'm just trying to figure out how longer I'm going to have to wait for you to take me back to the party," she answered casually as she looked around his Spartan room.  "You really need to fire your decorator.  There's like not even a painting on the wall." 

            "I like things simple," he informed her with a frown.  Everything about his life he liked simple; she was complicating it to hell though.  "And I will not be joining you at Harry's tonight so please find another to return you to the festivities."

            She turned and looked at him again, her eyes calm and her smile sincere.  "But I told the others that _you_ would be bringing me back.  And you know how the others are; if I don't show up in a little while, they're going to be sending an army out to look for me _and_ you." 

            The smile she was giving him now was remarkably like the Loony Toons cartoon character Sylvester the cat as he is carrying out his scheme to catch the Tweety Bird: all together smug.  Possibly because she knew that every word was true.  "So you will simply explain that I am busy," he said to her while making his way back to his desk.  "I do not plan on attending." 

            "It's a party, JP," she informed him with a raised brow and bounced on the bed, making no move to leave.  "I'm not asking you for you life or first born."

            "I'm not in the mood to party.  And it is _Jean-Paul_," he replied firmly.  "When will you learn it?" 

            "When Warren is a drag queen," she replied easily and got off the bed.  Coming over, she put her hands around his upper arm.  "Come on, JP.  It'll be fun, everyone is there right now.  It's like fifteen minutes of your _busy _schedule and a bottle of beer."  She tugged on the arm and grinned at him.  "What's it going to hurt?"

            "I'm _très_ _occup_ at the moment, _Enfant_; I don't have time for these games of yours."  He knew he made a mistake the minute the words left his mouth in a tone that he hadn't meant.  Her small delicate hands fell away, leaving him feeling suddenly empty and alone.  He didn't turn her look at her, wasn't sure if he could knowing what was probably there in her eyes. 

            There was a heavy silence as he searched his mind for something to say and she stood there staring at him.  When the silence stretched out and bordered discomfort, "Well I guess I should leave you to your work then," she said quietly without a hint of emotion.  She was good at that when need be; one would have to be to survive in this world.  "I'll see you around, Jean-Paul," and left. 

            Until she had said his name correctly, he hadn't really thought of how much it comforted him to hear her call him 'JP.'  There as an intimacy that he hadn't realized could be placed on two simple letters and he found that he didn't particularly like his full name on her lips.  Swallowing the tightness in his throat, he turned in his seat and stared at the firmly closed door. 

            He had hurt her with his sharp words, he knew that.  And _god_, he didn't think it would hurt him so to know that _he_ had hurt her. 

            With a sigh of reluctance, he mentally braced himself to spend the next hour or so at Harry's with the insufferable Wolverine and to torture himself with the sight of Jubilee with his 'Wolvie.'  And beyond that, he was going to have to apologize.  _Damn it._  He hated to apologize; there was nothing worse than having to eat crow.  But he was man enough to know that he was wrong and he needed to express his regret… if for nothing else than to have her not be angry with him.

            _When in Hades did that child become so damn important?_  That frustrating question haunted him all the way to Harry's.  But she was important, or he won't be driving out to a party he had no desire to attend and give an apology that no one would believe he gave. 

            The festivities were in full swing as Jean-Paul walked into the infamous gathering place of the members of the X-Men old and new.  So say it wasn't much to look at was giving Harry's a compliment.  The wooden panel walls and smoke filled room hardly screamed of elegance with its yellow paint, scratched tables and floors that had been permanently stained.  It was hardly the place one would find several Wall Street crowned billionaires.  Student and teachers mingled easily with one another as music, laugher and alcohol flowed. 

            "_Mein__ freund_," Kurt appeared out of nowhere sans image inducer.  Harry's was the only place locally that he felt no need to hide what he was.  "You came!"

            "Under great protest," Jean-Paul muttered as a bottle of beer was thrust into his hands while his eyes searched the room.  "There are too many people here, it's a fire hazard."

            Kurt laughed and shook his head.  "Relax, if things become dangerous, someone will open up a new door or two if need be."  And they have on occasion.  The Xavier Institution have paid for the renovation of Harry's several times now, each time restoring the bar to its original dingy self by the request of its sole proprietor, Mr. Edward Stackley, who named this place after his late partner and life companion.   

            "It is a still a hazard.  Has no one taught these people that smoking can kill them?" Jean-Paul complained, waving a hand before his nose to clear away some of the sweet tobacco smell. 

            Delighted with life in general after swapping shots of whiskey with Logan, Kurt slapped Jean-Paul on the back and led the man toward a corner booth.  "Come, we find the _liebchen_ for you." 

            Heading snapping back, "What?"

            "Jubilee," Kurt clarified with a knowing grin.  "You were looking for her just now, _ja_?"  At his surprised look, "I'm slightly tipsy, not blind nor stupid.  Come," pulling the Canadian forward, "I know just where she is." 

            In the corner booth, chairs pulled close and crowded around a small scuffed table that looked incapable of holding the numerous shot glasses and beer mugs currently on it, were several of the active members of the X-Men family currently residing at the school.  Laughing at a joke, Bobby Drake, Warren Worthington and Paige Guthrie were sharing large bowl of mixed nuts that were being passed between them.  Scott Summer and his lovely wife held hands and were patiently listening to something Alex Summer was babbling about.  Hank McCoy was tossing peanuts into the air while Jubilee attempted to catch them in her mouth.  And Logan was calmly consuming beer with one arm slung over the back of Jubilee's chair, smiling contently as he watched the little one play.   

            "Look who I found by the door," Kurt announced, dumping himself into the only open seat left at the table, obviously his before he abandon the group to shepherd Jean-Paul into the party. 

            All eyes suddenly turned to the newcomer and Jean-Paul had to struggle not to squirm under the scrutiny.  If the rest of the members of the X-family were surprised to see him there, none of them did a very good job in hiding that fact.  With one exception…

            "_JP_!" Jubilee launched herself out of her seat using Logan's leg as a spring board, causing the man to grunt, arm wide open and face full of delight.

            Jean-Paul took three quick steps forward and caught the silly child before she smashed her nose into the less then clean floor of the bar having miscalculated the distance between herself and him.  For a gymnast, she had moments of such ungraceful and fool hearted moves that left him fearing for her safety from herself.  "Are you attempting to break your neck, _Enfant_?!?"  he snapped sharply at her, all awkwardness forgotten as his heart pounding fiercely.  "Because if you are would you be so kind as to do so out of my presence?  I wouldn't appreciate being splatter with blood."

            "But you would look so lovely in that shade of red," she informed him as she was sat her on feet again.  "Besides, I knew you'd catch me."  Her eyes twinkled with mischief.  Grinning broadly, she threw her arms around him again.  "I knew you'd come, JP.  I just knew it."

            He wasn't sure what to make of that statement.  "Get off, _Enfant_.  And it's Jean-Paul," he said only out of habit, relieved that she didn't appear the least bit upset from his earlier outburst. 

            "Whatever," she commented cheerfully before pulling him toward the table.  Jean-Paul looked around for an empty chair to pull up just as Jubilee shoved him into her emptied seat.  With a much satisfied grin, she dropped her bum on Logan's knee and offered Jean-Paul a shot of whiskey from a bottle and a random shot glass on the table.  "Sorry, no one ordered Scotch so you'll simply have to make do with this for now."

            "Scotch?" Bobby asked with interest.  He was a scotch drinker himself. 

            "Thanks, this is fine," Jean-Paul replied and down the drink in one gulp.  It burned the whole way down.  He didn't question how clean the glass might be or who might have used it before him, he was pretty sure that the alcohol would have disinfected the glass within seconds upon contact.  And if he was going to have to sit through an hour of watching Jubilee sit contently in Logan's lap, he would rather do it drunk and numbed. 

            "Easy, sugar pie," Jubilee took the shot glass from his hand and sat it on the table.  "I am not carrying you back to your room if you get smashed," she informed him with a wiggling finger.  "Slow down."  She tilted her head and regarded him for a moment with assessing eyes.  "Did you get dinner?"

            Jean-Paul chose to ignore the question in lieu of another shot of whiskey.

            "Hey!"  Jubilee grabbed the bottle spilling a good deal of it, much to Logan and Kurt's dismay, but not before Jean-Paul knocked back another shot.  "Oh you're going to be butt ugly drunk tonight, aren't you?"

            "No such thing," he informed her haughtily though that was exactly what he intended to do.  There was nothing like alcohol to remove all the worries in the world.  And he really didn't want to be thinking right now, especially faced with her and Logan there.  "Give me that."

            Giving him a look that spelled out I-don't-think-so, she looked toward the bar.  "Hey Kev!"

            "Yo!" came the shouted reply form a young man that looked like he had been a bad piercing experiment.  "What you need, babe?" 

            "A sandwich with the works?" she asked hopefully and with a smile that was likely to elicit an agreement.  "Or if you're swamped, access to your kitchen?"

            "Would you make me one too if I let you?" Kev responded with wiggling brows.  "Haven't had dinner with all your people coming in here."

            "Oh, you poor baby," she made a face at him and grinned broadly as he flipped her the bird in response.  Laughing, she got off Logan with a bounce.  "Paige, quit with the flirting and come help," to which Paige rolled her eyes but follow suit.  "Be right back," and gave Logan a quick kiss on the cheek before pointing to Jean-Paul.  "Don't let him drink any more until I get back with food," then leaned over and brushed her lips against Jean-Paul's cheek before he could lean away.  "Behave or I'll have Wolvie sit on you.  And with all that adamantium, he's no feather weight, trust me.  You'd be pancake, and we both know you prefer waffles."  She grinned at him again before pulling Paige off into the back. 

            Paige leaned over and told Jean-Paul in no uncertain terms, "You cost me a pair of shoes," then grinned before following Jubilee to the kitchen. 

            "What?" Confused, Jean-Paul turned to watch the girls disappear through the swinging doors to the kitchen.  "What she was talking about?" he wondered out loud to no one in particular.  Jean-Paul was suddenly feeling weary.  For a moment he wondered if he could just sneak off now.  But turning back, he was greeted with several smiling faces that said that he even thought about leaving, they will _all_ sit on him.  Grunting something unintelligible, he reached for the bottle. 

            Logan shook his head at him.  Removing the stogie from his mouth, "You heard the kid.  No getting wasted until she gets you food." 

            He eyed him to assess whether or not he was serious.  A challenging brow was the only response he got.  Apparently, he was.  Retracting his hand, he sat back and looked around the table at the various grinning faces.  "What?"

            "Why did you show up?" Bobby asked bluntly.  "Ow…" rubbing his side where Warren's elbow had connected none too gently.  "What?  You know you want to know as well."

            "What do you mean?" Jean-Paul asked mildly.

            "What Bobby is asking," Scott begin, turning his head to give his friend a look.  "Is that we're kind of curious as to know…"

            "Why you change you mind about coming to this get together?" Logan drawled out slowly.  "Didn't see neither hide nor hair of you all afternoon and then the short stuff goes off to get you then come back... without you.  Then you show up ten minutes later."  He shifted the cigar in his mouth.  "Paige wagered her new Gucci's that you won't be showing up.  Jubilee put up her new Steve Madden's that you would."

            "Steve Madden's?" Hank made a face.  "I bought her those." 

            Jean-Paul made a face.  "They betted on whether or not I would show?"

            The entire table nodded, two of them were smiling knowingly.

            He didn't know whether to be pissed or be… pissed.  "What were they doing betting on…"

            "Jubilee was sure you wouldn't let her down," Logan replied calmly, his face watching the former Alpha Flight member.  "Real sure that you would be here because she wanted you to, cause she asked."  He tilted his head and regarded him with a curious look.  "Didn't know you two were so… _close_." 

            Jean-Paul was a smart man, brilliant by most standards.  But at the moment he was also a smart man with alcohol in his empty stomach.  "Someone had to watch out for her while the rest of you go off and live your own lives."

            Brush brows suddenly came together forming a tight V over narrowing eyes.  "What are you saying?" Logan growled.

            "Logan," Kurt warned in that soothing tone of his.  They had discussed this at length already; someone had to prepare the volatile Wolverine of the recent happenings in the school.  The last thing they need was a slug out in a bar full of students. 

            "Relax, Elf," Logan said around his cigar.   Looking around the table, "Beat it, boys and girls.  Northstar and I got a little talking to do."

            Kurt was the only one that hesitated, though Warren did look back before Bobby dragged him away to the pool table.  With one last warning look and the usual, "Behave," Nightcrawler also disappeared among the thong of people that crowded the popular gin joint. 

            Crossing his arms, Jean-Paul studied the man that was justifiably feared by half the enemies he's crossed.  Though short by most standards for a man, Logan was all muscle and all power.  And every line and hair on that body screamed 'danger.'  Were he a fanciful person, Jean-Paul would describe Logan as a hunter, which the man has proven more than once.  And probably on his less than kind days, he'd described the hairy ape as a rabid animal.  But whatever the case, there was no getting around the fact that as fast as he was and powerful as he was, Jean-Paul would probably find it rather difficult to talk away from a fight with Logan without a few broken bones and bruises to match. 

            Logan grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and drained it from the neck, "Precaution," he told the other man as he waved the bottle of his head until Kev at the bar saw and acknowledged the request.  "AND A BOTTLE OF SCOTCH!" he bellowed at the pierced bartender, who answered with a roll of his eyes and a quick nod. 

            Deciding that silence was the best policy at the moment, Jean-Paul sighed with exasperation, feeling a suddenly camaraderie with the hurried bartender, and waited for whatever warning the Wolverine feels he needed to impart. 

            For his part, Logan was taking his sweet time lighting another cigar and relishing the taste of the sweet tobacco on his tongue and the warmth of alcohol that was already losing its effect on his rapidly healing senses.  "Why is it that every time I leave the kid alone with one of you, I end up having to give one of these talks?  Don't matter who it is either.  Hell, I've even had to go through it with the Elf and Slim once."

            Whatever it was the Jean-Paul had been expecting, that didn't even come close.  In fact, Logan looked almost disgruntled in having to do any talking at all.  "What exactly are you talking about, Mr. Logan?"

            "It's just Logan, no Mister," he corrected immediately.  "And we're talking about the kid, in case you haven't figured that out already."

            "I didn't in fact since you've decided to suddenly talk in riddles," Jean-Paul replied sourly.  He really wanted a drink now and the bartender chose that exact moment to come with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and scotch in the other. 

            "The usual?" Kev asked but set the bottles down without waiting for an answer.  "Put it on your tab?"

            "Yep," Logan answered and popped the cork on the whiskey.  "And bring another one of these in fifteen minutes."

            "Hollow tube all the way to your shoes," Kev commented with a shake of his head.  No one drank like Mr. Logan did.

             Grinning manically, Logan polished off half the bottle in one breath then set it on the table, putting the cork back in for good measure.  He gave Jean-Paul a warning when he saw him eyeing the scotch, "Not until the food."

            "Then would you get on with this?"

            "Fine," crossing his arms and glancing at the door to the kitchen for a second.  "Look, the kid knows what she knows.  And she ain't ever had to explain herself to me or anyone else over who she chooses to associate with.  Weren't very fond of the kid from East LA but she trusted him, loved him, and he watched her back up to the end.  I'll always be grateful to him for that.  You get my meaning here?"

            "Not really."

            Logan sighed and muttered something unkind under his breath.  "Look, Jubilee chooses her own friends.  And she's got a heart better than yours, mine and half the X-Men's combined.  This ain't no competition, because if it were, she'd be the one that loses.  And everyone on this damn team knows that you don't let Jubilee lose at anything.  There'll be hell to pay if you do." 

            More than just a little stunned at this pearl of insightful wisdom, Jean-Paul was left a little dazzled and speechless. 

            Seeing that some of what he's saying was getting through, Logan popped the cork on the whiskey again and took a sip.  "Just cause I'm back don't mean that Jubie needs you more or less.  It just means that _I'm_ back and she can find me anytime she needs or wants.   Don't have no effect on _your_ relationship with her.  Am I making it clear enough for you, JP?" 

            "Jean-Paul," he corrected automatically then cursed as Logan laughed. 

            "She got you wrapped around her little finger, hasn't she?" he grinned, obviously delighting in that prospect.  Handing him the Scotch and a glass, "She's got a way of doing that to you when you ain't looking.  Seen it happen time and time again.  Also seen you all retreat into the back, push the little darlin' away when you think she don't need you no more," he made a tisking sound with his tongue and shook his head at him.  "That ain't very nice and I don't condone it."

            Not quite believing his was having this conversation; Jean-Paul took the Scotch and poured himself a good lot of it.  "I don't think that's your decision to make."

            "Look, get your head out of your ass and see what you're missing, Canuck," he jerked one thumb toward the kitchen door, where shrieks of laughter could be heard, bring smiles to people's face around the bar.  "That kid in there, there ain't another one like her in the world.  If you're lucky enough to fall into her good graces, don't be an jackass and silently retreat into your own little world just because I'm back.  Jubie don't work like that.  If you're in, you're in.  There's no going back, no matter what you do."

            "So what are you saying?  I'm never going to escape her clutches?" he asked haughtily as the door of the kitchen swung open, sending the crowd cheering as Jubilee heaved a large platter of sandwiches up in the air.

            "DINNER IS SERVED!  COME AND GET IT!" she shouted at the top of her lungs before she set the platter on the bar next to Kev, the bartender.  "Here's yours, Cute Stuff.  Thanks for the kitchen."

            "Any time, Jubilee!" he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

            Laughing with delight, she disappeared into the kitchen again as Paige came out with another tray of sandwiches for the hungry crowd.  It would appear that Xavier's just brought out Harry's for the night. 

            "Would you want to?"

            "What?" came the distracted response as Jean-Paul frowned at the bartender.  The man was becoming _too_ friendly with the overly-friendly brat.  Someone should see that it doesn't happen again.

            "Would you want to escape?" Logan asked again with more patience than he usually showed.  A knowing smile played around his mouth as he watched Jean-Paul's expression.  A goner if he ever saw one.

            Not knowing what to say, Jean-Paul just merely stared back, unwilling to voice a lie and unable to voice the truth.  _No, he won't_. 

            So he opted for another drink.

            "_JP_!" she snatched the glass from his hand before he could empty it, spilling some on his shirt and across the dirty floor.  "Wolvie, I told you not to let him drink without food first.  What's the matter with you?  You _want_ to be the one to carry him home?" she shoved sandwiches into their hand.

            "When did you become a mother hen?" Logan grumbled as he obediently took a bite and downed another quarter bottle of whiskey. 

            "When the two of you turned into idiots," she informed him with a stern frown.  "Eat!" pointing at the sandwiches in their hands. 

            "She's worse than Ororo," he murmured.

            "Jean-Paul," Jean-Paul corrected belatedly as he stared at the most unappetizing ham and cheese sandwich his yet to come across.  There was no way his delicate stomach, accustom to properly prepared meals by four star chefs, could possibly survive an encounter with something slapped together by a pair of hands he wasn't even sure she remembered to wash.  Lifting his eyes to find a place to set down the sandwich, he was met with a pair of cheerfully hopeful eyes, watching him expectedly with such shining delight for life that he was stunned for a moment. 

            She was _there_.

            She was _watching_ him.

            She _made_ him a sandwich. 

            She wasn't going _anywhere_.

            Taking a bit of the hideous sandwich, "When are you going to say my name right?"

            "When pigs fly on their own," she replied in a sing-songy voice then poured scotch for him. 

            He wasn't going lose her after all.  So much for his well strategize plan for a silent retreat.  He probably should have guessed that nothing ever goes according to plan when it comes to her.  She won't allow it. 

            Thank goodness for that. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

            Okay, that feels like a good ending, doesn't it? 

            As usual, this isn't as I had hoped it would be but it is what it is and I hope you've all enjoyed it. 


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